by Alexia Purdy
“These puppies are going to be your new best friends. Their aim will be true, no matter how much your throwing sucks.” He winked. He loved getting a rise out of her, even at the risk of pissing her off.
“And you know this how? If my aim is so terrible, what good are these?”
Matt lifted an eyebrow. “Let’s just say I learned a new little magic trick to make their aim true. They’ll go in the direction of any target you concentrate on. Pretty handy, right?”
She stared back at him, suspicious. “And who taught you this little trick?”
“My lips are sealed. But trust me, it works. I made a set for another warrior, and they’ve already put in another order for more. It’s going to be a popular thing. I have orders coming in from across the world, but I was concentrating on making a set for you first. Trust me, you’re going to love me for making them. Oh, and I don’t take credit cards, by the way, for any future orders. Gold only, please, although kisses and cuddles accepted in lieu of payment, but not in any creepy way. This set is on the house, for my best and most loyal customer.”
And there it was. There was more than one reason she’d never date Matt; he never gave up, and his cheesy sense of humor could get on her last damn nerve if she hung around him too long. He also never made a weapon for anybody unless they paid in solid gold. It was an odd request from a mortal, but his preference to be paid in gold was actually the easiest thing he wanted from her. She just didn’t know why he wanted the precious metal, since it was difficult to exchange for paper currency without being highly suspected by mortals. Cash was always good for her.
At least Matt had his priorities right. He worked hard for his money, and he used his profits to acquire more of the rare materials he needed to make his unique weapons. She could see how everything Matt did was to better himself and his craft, even learning spells to enchant his weapons.
Damn. She liked him far too much. She needed to grab the weapons he had for her and get out of there.
“All right. Can I test one out? I need to be somewhere soon. It’s not going to aim at you since you’re the only other person in the room, is it? I don’t want to be hitting innocent bystanders.”
“You won’t have to worry about that. This is one spell worth every penny. Just concentrate on your target—that bull’s-eye on the wall over there—and you’ll hit the middle every time. If you think about me now, which I hope you don’t, then I guess I’m dead meat. Should I put on some armor before you do this?”
Thalia stared at him, shocked. Could he really think that she would kill him with his own magical throwing daggers? Maybe he didn’t know her that well. Maybe she ought to let him know her a little better to erase any doubts in his mind.
Yeah, better not, she thought as she snatched one of the throwing daggers and smirked at him before turning her eyes toward the target and concentrating on the yellow dot in the center of the rings. Swinging her arm back, she put all her muscle into the throw and let it fly across the room, purposely aiming for the edge of the target and not the middle, to see if the spell would work. With a loud thunk, the dagger sank right into the middle of the yellow dot.
“Whoa.” She straightened, her eyes widening as she studied the target. Her lips upturned into a large grin as she looked back at Matt, absolutely thrilled.
“Now that’s what I call shootin’, Tex!” He held out a hand for a high five. She smacked it, too excited to realize how crazy it all was.
Matt smiled, folding his arms and puffing out his chest. He was so proud, but Thalia shook her head. She couldn’t help but to chuckle. It was always fun hanging out with him, and that was what she was afraid of.
Her smile melted away as she stared at the target across the room while Matt took a moment to pack the other blades he’d made for her. These weapons would never be approved of by any of the archangels. She’d already known the sword she’d commissioned, one that could kill angels and high demons, would have to be kept hidden from them, but what if Matt’s skills were discovered? What if they put a price on his head just for making her the sword?
Her thoughts were concerning, but for now, she listened as he briefly went over the uses of all the weapons before handing her the leather roll. It included not only throwing daggers but poison darts, a small crossbow, and one folding walking stick. Next, Matt held out a bundle tied with leather straps and bound in a thick layer of supple cowhide.
Finally, the piece she’d been waiting for: an angel-killer blade. It would be her signature weapon from now on, and he had enchanted it with plenty of useful magical charms just for her.
As they finished their transaction, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a small but heavy pouch of gold and slapped it into his large, rough hand. He curled his fingers around the sack and around her hand without letting go. His fingers were long enough to firmly wrap around her tiny hand. For a moment they stared at each other, both full of longing and want, until Thalia finally looked away and tugged her hand free. Glancing back up, she gave him a small smile before gathering the weapons into a duffle bag he’d provided. She waved goodbye to him before heading toward the door.
Was that severe disappointment burning in his eyes? She knew what was in her heart, the words she could never say, the feelings she adamantly denied. She kept the things she desired most out of reach for good reason. She wasn’t truly alive, but she wasn’t truly dead, and the whole purpose of her life was to gain entrance into Heaven where her soul could finally rest. She wouldn’t have to hunt evil beings anymore. There, she would have no need to fall in love, have a partner, seek solace in the arms of another. Maybe then she would have answers about her past, about her life, about who she’d really been before her death, and why she’d been denied the one thing she wanted the most: to pass through the gates of Heaven.
In the meantime, there could be no distractions, and nothing could get in her way. Not even a handsome blacksmith who could probably love her well. No, not even Adam, the waiter at the diner. No one. For now, Ereziel was the only man who could give her what she wanted. Too bad he was a bastard, a corrupted archangel. He may have known how to help her garner entrance into Purgatory, but the archangel was not kind to people. He was a trickster; a con artist. She had to be careful around Ereziel. Matt and Adam were to be kept far from his clutches at all costs.
Over the years, she’d learned to tolerate Ereziel’s profound distrust of anyone she took a liking to just so she could keep working toward her goal. Unfortunately, he was the only one who knew the marks to go after. Now that she had the angel-killer sword, she would have more leverage against him. Next time she saw the archangel, they’d be on more level ground.
Chapter Five
Leaving the forge always left her feeling empty. Or maybe she was full of want. She couldn’t quite tell what the feeling was, but seeing Matt always left her itching for something more. The storm clouds rolling in from the east gave her some distraction as she made her way home, but the agony of being so alone back in her studio apartment was unbearable. Enough so, she turned up her music and shoved the Murphy bed up into the wall to begin her daily training ritual.
The space was just big enough for her to work out. Starting her routine, she warmed up her muscles, stretching and rolling them, feeling them out. Most were still sore from several fights the past week, especially from the last one with Ariuk. He hadn’t exactly fought back, but he hadn’t been weak. She wondered what the demon had done in his time on Earth and how he had ended up on an archangel’s hit list.
Thinking about Ereziel, she quickly checked her phone as she threw back a swallow of water, inhaling and exhaling quickly as her workout got more intense. The bastard had not texted her back yet. What was he up to? He never took this long to answer her. In fact, sometimes she had to turn off her phone to keep him from badgering her. Yes, he was a corrupt archangel, always getting involved with human crime lords and the like, but he had a certain charm about him. Archangels liked to control those who wer
e breaking the law, and their immortal status pretty much guaranteed they could dominate any crime bosses they chose. He liked to taunt everyone, especially any angels under his command. It was easy for him; he was untouchable.
She glanced at her angel-killer sword. She’d already hung it on the wall for easy access while she slept. Not even her special sword could kill an archangel. Nothing really could. It was unfortunate, but the idea made her blood run cold. She shouldn’t think about such things. It wasn’t their fault they were so unemotional and far removed from reality. After being stranded when the gates of Heaven had shut, the archangels had been left no choice but to reign on Earth. They were pretty much invincible. It was the lower angels and demons who could die by this enchanted sword. She sometimes had difficulty with the more powerful demons, but this sword would solve that. If she ever figured out how to kill an archangel, Ereziel would probably be the first. Or not. She groaned. The idea of killing him refused to leave her alone.
Her musings ran rampant through her head if she let them, so she concentrated on her workout instead. Even so, she couldn’t help but think back to the first time she’d met Ereziel.
Fresh from being cast out from Heaven and even rejected at the gates of Hell, she’d found herself lost on Earth and quite alone. The quest to find Purgatory had crossed her mind, but with no way in even if she did locate it, she’d been doomed to futility. Then she’d met the archangel. He had found her huddled on a park bench under a tree during a rainstorm, shivering and crying, her tears washing away with the rainwater. He’d approached her and told her he knew what had happened. He’d said he could help her and had reached out to take her hand. She’d been barely seventeen, with no memory of how she had become an immortal instead of resting with her family in Heaven. She could remember that it had happened, but the details were lost to her. She hadn’t even fully understood what she was until Ereziel explained it all to her.
She had been mortal, yes, and had once been alive, with a family full of love and warmth. What had happened to it all? Why had she been cast out of Heaven? How had her family been accepted, but not her? Why had she been treated differently?
Ereziel had taken her to his opulent home, given her food, a place to live, a chance to finish her schooling, and an opportunity to do whatever her heart desired. He offered her the choice of a normal life, but she’d have to forget about finding her family. Alternatively, she could have a chance of rejoining them in Heaven. There would be only one catch. She would have to work for him as a mercenary, destroying the unjust to earn her way into Purgatory. From there, she should be able to reenter Heaven. It hadn’t taken her long to accept the job.
He ended up training her, strengthening her new immortal body so she could kill the foes he needed her to take down. He had molded her into his warrior. His personal killer. Now here she was, years later, still doing his bidding, still waiting to acquire enough vile souls for payment into Purgatory.
That damned archangel! He wasn’t forthcoming about how many souls she’d have to collect. He had peered at her with cold eyes while leaning forward and stating, “When you have enough, you’ll find yourself back in Purgatory. Before that, you’ll always be denied. You’ll know when you’ve collected enough.”
It hadn’t been the answer she’d sought. Would there ever be enough souls? Maybe he didn’t know either. Maybe no amount of souls would ever get her back in. And what if she got to Purgatory but they still wouldn’t let her through the gates of Heaven? As much as she distrusted Ereziel, she didn’t have a choice but to take him at his word. The thought of never seeing her family again had been unbearable, so she’d stopped asking but kept killing those who made the unfortunate mistake of ending up as a mark.
Funny how Ereziel was so skilled at changing the subject. He’d tried to appease her with other things, like telling her where the graves of her family were located. She had missed the funeral. For some time, his method of distraction had worked quite well, for she had gone immediately to find the graves. By then, they had been long in the ground, for immortals perceived time differently. Decades had passed, but to her it had seemed like only weeks before Ereziel had found her on that bench. She could barely see the inscriptions on the graves through the tall grass growing up around the stones.
Another problem surrounding their deaths was that no one remembered her or her family. Someone had erased them from existence, a fact that bothered her no matter how much time passes. Ereziel had told her the truth about them; these were their graves and that was all. It was all she would ever know, but at least, for the time being, it was all she needed.
She had spent a few years going to the graves daily, placing flowers, removing the dead ones. The old cemetery caretaker never asked her questions. He would quietly appear now and then, off to the side, observing without any opinion, without any kind of judgment in his eyes. Maybe he was an immortal too, but she doubted it. He was an old man full of knowledge, and he looked wiser than most immortals she had met. Maybe he knew she was an immortal. Maybe he knew what she was capable of.
Regardless, she had spent a good year or two or three doing this, until one day, she did not return. She had not visited the graves since. She wondered if the caretaker had died by now, or if the graves had become overgrown and forgotten once more. Something in her had died along with her family, and she couldn’t think of them without feeling hollow.
That was no longer her life. Killing vile and evil souls and collecting them to be able to enter Purgatory was her single goal. She swore she’d see her family again one day and find some sort of peace.
Thalia stopped her workout as the feeling of being watched flooded her superior senses. Past her reflection shining on the window, someone was indeed watching her from a rooftop several buildings away. She had shredded the curtains in the process of training and failed to replace them and was now in full view of the stranger. She stared directly at her observer, who stood eyeing her back. In the dimming light of dusk, she couldn’t quite tell if it was a man or a woman staring at her. The figure wore a long trench coat, which wavered in the wind.
She shivered. Who would be watching her at this hour? There was no one who knew where she lived. It was her sanctuary, this tiny studio where she kept small artifacts she had cherished over the years. There were no real close friends, lovers, or family she could bring to her place. Not even Ereziel had been there, so who was this person watching her train?
The figure remained, unmoving. She quickly threw on her jacket and shoes then grabbed the angel-killer sword, shoved it into its sheath, and tucked it beneath her jacket as best she could. She ran out the door, slammed it shut, and then locked it behind her, hoping the stranger would still be waiting when she arrived.
Chapter Six
The clouds broke open as she stepped outside, and the rain came down in sheets for several minutes before finally slowing to a drizzle. Luckily, it wasn’t as cold as it looked. The clouds kept in the heat of the day. The sunny park had been so welcoming earlier in the day, and she wished she’d spent more time there, enjoying it.
Reaching the roof of the apartment building was not difficult for a person of her skills. She waited for someone to exit the building and sprinted in through the swinging door. People rarely noticed her when she chose not be seen; she had the ability to blend into the background. Years of experience had taught her much about what people saw or didn’t see in their periphery. Most people were too involved in their own thoughts or focused on their cellphones to give her a second glance.
Just the way she liked it.
Taking the stairs, she made it to the top five minutes after she’d first seen the stranger from her window. She slammed the metal roof door open and drew her sword but found no one waiting. There were no wet footprints heading down the stairwell either, which led her to believe the stranger must have jumped to another building or… flown away?
She shook her head. She had not seen any wings on the stranger. Had he or she hidden
them from her? She hadn’t expected to see any angels in this part of town. They tended to stick to the swankier areas. They had money, for immortality usually allowed for the accumulation of wealth. Thalia didn’t lack any kinds of funds, but she lived modestly. It wasn’t worth it to bring attention to herself when she needed to function in stealth mode.
She checked each corner of the rooftop before searching the surrounding buildings. Finding the spot where the stranger had stood staring straight into her window, she peered down at her feet and spotted a single grey feather. It was long, abnormally long, and too large to belong to a bird of any kind. She reached down and picked it up. Beads of water slid off the feather, its sleek, oily surface easily repelling the fluid. It was big enough to belong to an angel, but an angel with gray wings? Although it wasn’t unheard of for angels to possess beautifully colored wings, most had white wings. This was a completely different coloring. A gray-winged angel would be quite rare.
She peered around as she shook the rest of the beads of water off the feather and tucked it into one of her jacket’s many pockets. Reseating her sword, she listened as the rain pattered against the roof beneath her feet. She liked this weather, even if her hair was already drenched. Wings would be useful. She envied the angels’ majestic appendages. What would it be like to take off and fly across the city’s pinnacles? It was probably exhilarating, and for a single breath, she felt envy burn through her. If one was to live forever, having wings would’ve been a nice bonus. But she wasn’t that blessed. She was cursed… grounded. Add that to the list of cons about being immortal.
Exhaling, she turned and headed back to the stairwell, but a ringing began in her ears, growing quickly. It forced her to her knees, and she grasped at her head.
Return home. The beacons call you. Return home.
